That little Sony was used to take all kinds of photos during my college years that, if they surfaced, would ensure I’d never be able to run for office. I’d worry, frankly, about my GPHG membership, too. It served its purpose for snapshots and was part of that pre smartphone era where having a camera on you was important, and not a given. Think about it: when was the last time you heard someone say at a social or family gathering, “OK, who has a camera?” My guess is there are people reading this right now who have never heard someone ask that question, but for those of us who can remember the 1990s, it was common.
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The next notable camera that I’d completely fail to wrap my arms around was a Nikon digital SLR. The model number escapes me, but it was something between the entry level of the time (this would have been 2006 or 2007, most likely) and the more advanced pro options. I bought it from a stranger on Craiglist, and we met in the food court of the Steeplegate Mall in Concord, NH, which as I type is waiting to be demolished and has been vacant for some time, like so many American malls. I handed him a wad of cash and then I suddenly owned a much more serious camera and a few additional lenses, which at the time I was pretty clueless about.
I spent a significant amount of time on photography forums gathering advice on how to use this thing. I don’t think I wanted to be a photographer, exactly, but I bought it more out of a love of gadgets, a notion that later would lead me home audio equipment (of the analog variety, mostly), another time consuming and expensive hobby. I learned all about the principles of photography with this camera: the rule of thirds, the role light plays in making an image, and how the focal length of a lens as well as its aperture and the camera’s shutter speed and ISO all contribute to creating a photo that’s pleasing to the eye. I understood these concepts, broadly, but was unable to harness them with this Nikon (or the Canon I eventually traded it, and those lenses, for). I blame it on laziness, bad timing, and also a user interface that I found to be fairly unforgiving. There was also an expectation (there still is) that images coming straight out of the camera would need some post processing to look their best, and, let me tell you, I just didn’t find that idea appealing at all.
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Years go by and I kind of forget about photography, but the watch world pulls me back in. My first time out with the Q2 was walking that San Francisco Windup, and while I wouldn’t call the photos I took that weekend magazine quality or anything, I really liked what I saw right away. More than that, I liked using the camera itself. The Q2 feels great in the hand, and it inspires confidence in a weird and intangible way. It also has a fantastic viewfinder and a large rear screen that gives you immediate feedback on your shot. This was the first “real” camera I’d ever owned that genuinely made me want to keep going.
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And over the last several months, I’ve kept going. Almost everyday I find time to photograph a watch or two at home. And my Q2 comes with me on walks around town, drives to nowhere in particular, work trips, and watch meetups. I’ve owned a “nice” camera almost everyday of my life since shortly after my college graduation, but this is the first time I’ve had one that I’ve wanted to take with me wherever I go.
It became clear to me very quickly that this was the key, at least for me, in getting the most out of photography. That old line about the best camera being the one you have on you is, of course, correct, but before you have a camera on you you’ve got to have one that you’re happy to use and fits into your lifestyle.
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